


Doctor Who and Earthship Ark

by Galen_Wordwyrm



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), The Starlost
Genre: Canadian Science Fiction, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22759534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galen_Wordwyrm/pseuds/Galen_Wordwyrm
Summary: Hello there!This is a work dedicated to two of my oldest fandoms, Classic Dr. Who and an almost forgotten Canadian 70s sci-fi program called 'The Starlost'.
Relationships: Devon/Rachel





	Doctor Who and Earthship Ark

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!
> 
> This is a work dedicated to two of my oldest fandoms, Classic Dr. Who and an almost forgotten Canadian 70s sci-fi program called 'The Starlost'.

“Earthship Ark, man’s greatest and final achievement, out of control, drifting through deep space eight hundred years into the far future. It’s passengers and crew, descendants of the last survivors of the dead planet Earth, locked in separate worlds, destination long forgotten, heading for destruction.

Unless three young people can save The Starlost.” – introductory voiceover

All was quiet in the control room of the TARDIS. Sarah Jane Smith was exploring the expansive wardrobe, the Doctor had pulled a red, gold, and burgundy upholstered overstuffed wing back chair and matching ottoman footstool from the depths of the Tardis, along with a classical dark bentwood hatstand he'd positioned to the left of the main doors, and was now deeply engrossed in the pages of an antique quarto volume, his unruly tangle of curls barely visible over the book, sprawled in comfort. His usual frock coat, wide brimmed hat, and remarkable multi-coloured striped scarf hung from the bentwood hatstand.

Left to his own devices, Surgeon-Lieutenant Harry Sullivan was wandering in a leisurely orbit of the hexagonal central control pedestal, it’s cylindrical transparent red time rotor oscillating quietly up and down. Harry was inspecting the various dials, levers, knobs, switches, controls, verniers, displays, and indicator lights while scrupulously and pointedly keeping his hands clasped behind his back, obeying the Doctor's firm order of ‘Do Not Touch. Anything!’, especially after the incident with the Helmic Regulator that as a side effect had resulted in the destruction of a rather comfortable pair of Harrod's leather loafers. 

An small amber lamp winked for attention. 

Harry stared at it for a moment, uncertain of what he should do. He leaned over ever so slightly, making a small ‘shooing' motion with his right hand.  
The light continued to wink, on and off, defiantly.

Harry cleared his throat. “I say, Doctor?”

“You didn’t touch anything did you, Harry?”, came the deep tenor.

“There’s a light that’s come on, on the control panel.”

“That generally means it’s working, Harry.”

“It’s an amber light, Doctor.”

“That could mean anything from the tea kettle is ready, to the hatch for the trash disposal is jammed.” The Doctor turned a page in his book. “Is it a fast blink, or a slow blink?”

Harry shrugged. “It’s a rather insolent blink, if you ask me.”

“Well I am asking you", said the Doctor with a small exasperated sigh.

An irritatingly insistent klaxon sounded. “That’s the hyper-relativistic proximity alarm!”, the Doctor shouted, the book snapping shut as he leapt from the his chair, striding to the control console. “Why didn’t you tell me the collision probability indicator had activated?”

“You told me not to touch anything”, Harry defended himself. 

“That’s not the point!” The Doctor flipped levers, adjusted controls, and made adjustments, maneuvering to avoid disaster.

Sarah Jane Smith threw open the door that led to the living quarters. “Good grief, what is with the racket?”

“Hallo, old thing!”, Harry gazed appreciatively at the auburn haired young woman, now wearing a white Victorian confection of a dress.

“Don’t you ‘old thing' me!”, Sarah grumbled at Harry, handing him a pair of embroidered red Persian carpet slippers. 

“Harry almost let us get hit by a speeder", the Doctor grinned, inspecting various read-outs. “Now where are they going in such a hurry?” The Doctor tapped a dial with his forefinger. “Now isn’t that interesting…”

Sarah tried to peer around him, and sidestep Harry, who was also trying to understand what the Doctor was looking at.

“I’m sorry, Doctor, I don’t have a clue what your on about", Harry admitted, as he balanced on one foot alternately, slipping on the provided shoes.  
The Doctor activated the viewscreen opposite the main doors, just in time to see a small arrowhead shaped craft, beige with red trim, streak past their upper left view. “Sixty metres long, ten wide, twenty high, approximate twelve thousand cubic metres displacement. Dual thermonuclear reactors for power. Tut-tut. Very nasty, those. Hmm. And decelerating from point eight-three luminal. Very interesting indeed.”

Sarah saw a small metallic glint in the lower right of the viewscreen. 

“Doctor, what’s that?”, she pointed. 

“That", crowed the Doctor, “is the intended destination of our mystery vessel.” He adjusted magnification on the display. 

“It’s a space ship!”, Sarah exclaimed.

Harry swiped a hand through his curly hair. “That ark place we visited can’t hold a candle to this one.”

“It’s no ordinary space craft”, the Doctor observed. “It’s large enough to generate it’s own localized gravity well. There are also some rather remarkable traces of hard radiation on parts of the outer hull. And evidence of considerable structural damage from cometary debris.”

Sarah managed to look simultaneously curious and hesitant. Harry once again, was bewildered, but recognised the look on Sarah's face. “Oh, no”, he muttered.

“Oh, yes”, Sarah responded. “Doctor, you’re not thinking of going there? Are you?”

“You’re a reporter, Sarah Jane", the Doctor grinned. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Safe at home with a nice cup of tea and a good book, if it had any sense", Harry said with raised eyebrows.

They were drawing closer to the space craft. “It’s absolutely massive!” Sarah was astounded by the scale.

“Each one of those domes is one hundred and twenty kilometres in diameter, which makes the entire ship something on the order of one thousand and twenty kilometres long, and about seven hundred kilometres wide”, said the Doctor.

Harry tried to count the habitat domes on either side of the central structural spine and couldn’t. “There must be dozens of them."

“Forty-two, in total", the Doctor corrected, while consulting environmental sensors. “Standard oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, one Gee internal, tolerable radiation levels, at least for the short term.”

“Let’s go see who’s at home", he announced, setting co-ordinates and throwing the materialization lever.

*-*-*

A discordant, wheezing, groaning, screeching sound would have scattered the sparse handful of cru that might dare to venture this far from the safety of the Brij. The cacophony ended with a distinct ‘thud', and the lamp atop the blue wooden London Police Box ceased blinking. A moment later, the double doors opened and a tall man wearing a frock coat and an immensely long scarf stepped out, accompanied by a young woman in a white dress and serious expression, and a curly-haired man in a blue blazer and embroidered carpet slippers.

“Oh, I say", Harry enthused, “We’ve gone again!”

The Doctor sniffed the air, flicking a blue yo-yo up and down with one hand. “Yes, quite acceptable.”

Sarah Jane looked around, noting the modular geometric molded panels that lined the walls, and the banks of machinery and equipment that told of a technologically advanced society. A metre wide dark perspex blister on the wall beside a wide hexagonal opening contained blinking lights and relays, with the legend ‘Cypress Corners’ printed on it in English in bright white letters. Perhaps two paces past the opening was a bright green convoluted circular foam pad.

“Hullo, what’s this?”, asked Harry, indicating a sign that read ‘Sphere Projector’.

“Why don’t we find out?”, suggested the Doctor. “Come along, Sarah Jane.” Sarah had stopped just short of the green foam pad when the Doctor summoned her.

The room was empty, save for a digital numerical display that occupied one entire wall, and a black upholstered chair in front of some kind of advanced interactive terminal with a circular display. Mildly frustrated at the lack of anything interesting, Harry leaned on the back of the chair. 

The display flickered. “Can I--", the deep voice cut off as Harry stepped back, slightly alarmed.

Intrigued, the Doctor tapped the chair. “Can--"

“How utterly ingenious", he marvelled. “Conductive presence activation.” The Doctor seated himself before Sarah or Harry could stop him.

The display flickered, quickly resolving into the image of a ginger bearded man in an orange uniform tunic, wearing glasses with thick circular black rims below scarlet eyebrows. “Can I be of…assistance?”, the sonorous voice inquired.

The Doctor smiled. “Well I certainly hope so. Could you tell us where we are?”

“Please be more…specific.”

Standing, the Doctor looked at Harry and Sarah Jane. “Do you realize what this is?”

“Some kind of video telephone exchange?”, Harry ventured.

“Do try not to be dense, Harry", the Doctor chided.

“It’s a computer!”, Sarah Jane realized.

“Precisely!”, the Doctor agreed with a grin and resumed his seat.

“Can I be of…assistance?”

“What is our present location?”, asked the Doctor.

The image managed to look just ever so slightly bored. “Your present location is Sphere Projector facility Six-five.”

“And who might you be?”

“I am Mu Lamda One-Six-Five, automatically programmed to respond for general information. Can I help you?”

“What is this vessel?”

“This is the Earthship ‘Ark’.”

The Doctor nodded to himself. “What is the purpose of the Ark?”

The image's eyelids fluttered briefly. “Hm. Earthship ‘Ark' was constructed for the purpose of the pres-er-va-tion of cultural speci-mens of the human race. Three million examples of the human species selected for pres-er-va-tion in sealed en-vi-ron-mental habitats with appropriate animal and veg-e-table biology, isolated to preserve their characteristics.”

“This would be the second ark we have encountered", noted the Doctor.

“This unit is not programmed for a response in this area. Please insert cylinder six-zero for an overview of human race survival con-tin-gency…planning.” The image smiled, just ever so condescendingly, pointing down at the rack in front of the display.

The Doctor searched through the rack, to no avail. “That record cylinder appears to be missing", he reported.

The eyelid flutter again. “Hm. Please report any damaged, missing, or sto-len cylinders to Central Records Ad-min-is-tration.”

“For a space craft as large as this one, we don’t seem to have encountered very many of the crew", The Doctor pointed out. “When we arrived, we observed some rather extensive damage. Are those facts related?”

Again the eyelid flutter. “Accident record year two-three-eight-five common era. Earthship Ark locked on collision course with class G solar star, an unidentified sun! Present Earth calendar year two-seven-nine-zero, common era. Inquiry activates link to Central Information Control…” The display darkened for a moment, then the image reappeared. “Communication to Central Information Control cut off! Bypassing. Emergency! Emergency! Report condition to the Bridge! Repeat: Report condition to the Bridge!”

The display blacked out, unresponsive.

A moue of irritation flickered on the Doctor's face before he grinned, standing to face his companions. “Well, that’s settled. Time to locate the Bridge.” He strode away from the sphere projector towards the door, Harry and Sarah trailing in his wake.

The doors slid aside with a hum of electric motors, and the Doctor almost collided with an intense young man with a moustache, dressed in simple, homespun clothes. An attractive dark haired young woman and a tall muscled man just behind her.

“Who are you?”, the young man demanded.


End file.
